


conscience and cowards

by cumkills



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cheating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love Triangles, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Mutual Pining, an AU in the same way that the lion king is a lion AU of hamlet, what's the tag for trying to cram as many ships as possible into a fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-10-06 02:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumkills/pseuds/cumkills
Summary: Dorky newcomer Quentin Coldwater falls for a theatrical stranger at a hotel party during summer break. When he starts the semester at his new school he's shocked to see a familiar face. The tension increases when Quentin, along with his new friends Julia and Kady, joins Eliot and Margo's bogus Magic Club.Or: the High School Musical AU that's set in college





	1. there's the rub

Something about hotels comforted Quentin. It was a sort of in-between world. The minute you left, there was no proof you ever existed. Nothing was permanent, and that relieved the pressure of the outside world. He sighed and swirled the ice in his glass as he looked over the edge of the balcony.  
  
Summer was coming to an end and he still hadn’t found an apartment. He hoped the move hadn’t been too short notice. It wasn’t like he had many options. Worst case scenario, he’d be studying for midterms in the hotel lounge too.  
  
“You’re ruining your drink.”  
  
Quentin jumped. Surrounded by partygoers, he’d assumed no one would pay him much attention. Who would notice him in such a busy crowd? A few feet away, a man watched his surprise with amusement.  
  
“Letting all that ice water it down is a tragedy,” the man tried again, offering him a smile.  
  
“I, uh, didn’t realize it was melting.”  
  
What was happening? He wanted to scream. That was the perfect chance to say something witty and impressive. Wait. Why did he care about impressing the stranger? Why was it so hard to think straight?  
  
“Huh, the way you were staring into your cup you’d think you were reading tea leaves.”  
  
His heart sped up when their eyes met. In theory, someone wearing a tie and vest on a summer evening would look severely overdressed. This guy made it work. The formality of the tie and vest was offset by rolled-up sleeves and perfectly-tousled curly, black hair.  
  
“Maybe I was.”  
  
The man took a few steps toward Quentin, closing the space between them. Leaning forward, he peered into the glass. Was that cologne? It smelled nice. Intoxicating. Fuck.  
  
“What’s your ice reading say then?”  
  
His deep voice so close to Quentin’s ear made his stomach flip. He could feel the heat of the man’s body against his shoulder, but he wished he was standing closer. Looking from the stranger to his drink, Quentin struggled to think of something normal.  
  
What he said next was not planned. No one had ever accused Quentin Coldwater of being smooth. He was, however, so nervous that he blurted out his first genuine thought.  
  
“You will be approached by a beautiful stranger.”  
  
Shit. Quentin tensed, waiting for some form of outrage.  
  
“Well let me know when you do,” the man laughed without missing a beat.  
  
This was his chance to back out. Say something normal and change the subject. Stop flirting with strange men at hotel parties. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to keep his mouth shut. Heart beating through his chest, he turned to face the stranger.  
  
Why was he standing so close? He was tall. And well dressed. And smelled so fucking good. His eyes wandered as he appraised him.  
  
Those forearms. That chin. Those eyes. Fuck, he was not being subtle. Time to end this before he got himself in trouble. He opened his mouth to say the least offensive thing he could muster.  
  
“I’m looking at them right now.”  
  
The man looked down at the floor with a grin, then back at him. There was a shine in his eyes that made Quentin stiffen. He opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it again. Music blared in the background, filling the silence.  
  
“I’m Eliot,” the man said finally, holding his hand out.  
  
“Quentin Coldwater.”  
  
Shit, way to be weirdly formal.  
  
Adrenalin coursed through his body as he shook Eliot’s hand. Quentin hoped he would assume the sweat on his palms was from the summer humidity. Holding Eliot’s gaze, he was almost too mesmerized to notice the thumb softly stroking the back of his hand. The short greeting seemed to last an eternity.  
  
Releasing his hand, Eliot turned to look out over the balcony. A light summer breeze picked up, sending Eliot’s curls bouncing in the wind. In that moment, Quentin found himself feeling helplessly engrossed in the man standing before him. And he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to keep his attention.  
  
“So do you usually spend parties clinging to the walls?”  
  
Eliot’s voice brought him back to the moment.  
  
“Only when I’m trying to seem aloof and interesting,” Quentin laughed, mirroring the man’s posture against the railing.  
  
The truth was much simpler. No matter the crowd, Quentin felt hopelessly alone. Sure, he’d have moments where he tried to talk to people. To relate. But something was always missing.   
  
“Well you’re definitely interesting.”  
  
He looked at Eliot in confusion. Did he mean for his voice to sound like that? Was he trying to flirt with him? Evening shadows hid the blush spreading across Quentin’s face.   
  
“So, uh, what’s up with this party anyways?” Quentin stammered. He didn’t know how to deal with positive attention.  
  
“Some meteor shower,” Eliot shrugged.  
  
Quentin looked up into the darkness. Stars flickered faintly in the hazy summer sky. Back home, the moonlight would have been beautiful. In the city, however, its shine was outdone by the evening traffic.  
  
“Can you even see them with all this light pollution?”  
  
“Definitely not. But it’s a good excuse for a party.”   
  
They watched the clouds drag across the sky, both working up the nerve to do something daring. Quentin caught a small flicker of light, barely visible.  
  
“There’s one.”  
  
He tried to point it out, but it was gone before he could raise his hand. Eliot stepped closer, pressing his chest against the back of Quentin’s shoulder.  
  
“Where?”  
  
A tentative hand rested on his lower back. The soft touch was encouraging. Fingertips twitched against the fabric of his shirt. Pointing in the direction of the shooting star, Quentin leaned into the warmth of the other man’s body.  
  
At that moment a second, brighter star ripped across the sky. Brimming with excitement, he turned to face Eliot. The look on his face caught Quentin off guard. The large, confident smile from before was replaced with an almost timid grin.  
  
This wasn’t a smile at Quentin. It was his own personal moment. Enjoying the night as he watched the other man scour the sky for shooting stars.   
  
“Make a wish,” Quentin mumbled, scrambling for something to say.  
  
In response, Eliot leaned forward and planted his lips on Quentin’s. When Quentin reacted encouragingly, the hand against his back pulled him closer. A second hand rested on his neck as they continued. The pair only parted when Eliot’s erection became too obvious to ignore.  
  
“So, uh,” Quentin started before Eliot had a chance to apologize, “would it be horrible if we went back to my room?”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
Quentin bent over to pick up the room key he dropped in his hurry. Focus elsewhere, he struggled to insert the key into the sensor.  
  
“Here,” Eliot leaned against his back, taking Quentin’s hand in his.   
  
Free hand gripping Quentin’s waist, Eliot pressed the bulge in his pants against Quentin’s back. Together they slid the card into place. The red light switched to green, giving the pair permission to continue.  
  
They barely made it through the entrance. Back against the closed door, Quentin grasped for the light switch in the dark. Both were momentarily stunned when the bright light flooded the room.  
  
Looking up at Eliot, he had an idea. This would either be extremely hot, or Eliot would walk out. His impulse for self-sabotage only encouraged him.  
  
“Hey so this, uh, might be weird,” he started nervously, “but I was wondering. Um. Ah. If you wanted to— and you can say no of course. But would you maybe—“  
  
“Quentin!” Eliot stroked his cheek with the side of his thumb and gave him a reassuring smile. “Just ask me.”  
  
“Canweroleplaysomething?”  
  
Eliot’s laugh made his heart sink but then he leaned forward, pressing his palm against Quentin’s erection. Lips grazing Quentin’s ear, he spoke in a low voice that made it hard for Quentin to breathe.  
  
“What kind of scene were you thinking?”  
  
For a second Quentin’s mouth hung open as he looked up at the beautiful man pinning him to a wall. Was this some sort of trick? Any second now people would burst into his room and start laughing. Eliot was too good to be true.  
  
“Give me a quest.”  
  
“A quest?” A large smile grew on Eliot’s face. “Only if I can be your king.”  
  
Fuck.  
  
“Anything for you, your highness.”  
  
Eliot responded by digging his fingers into Quentin’s back as they kissed. Grabbing Quentin’s wrists, Eliot held his arms against his head.  
  
“You’ve been sentenced to death,” Eliot moaned in his ear. “But never let it be said that I am not —ah!— a benevolent king. I will give you... one last chance.”  
  
One hand snaked down Quentin’s arm, cupping his jaw as he bent to kiss him. As the kiss deepened Quentin’s other arm slid lower down the wall until they were simply holding hands.  
  
“What would you have me do, my king?”  
  
Eliot gave a soft chuckle when he saw Quentin’s eager eyes searching his face. He started to unbutton Quentin’s shirt as he spoke.  
  
“My kingdom has been cursed. It has been years since I felt an ounce of...pleasure”  
  
He slid his hand into Quentin’s open shirt. In response, he began to undo Eliot’s pants. Eliot rolled Quentin’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger as the other man stroked Eliot’s shaft.  
  
They stood there for a moment, too distracted to continue. Eliot moaned into his mouth as Quentin continued to caress him. Desperate fingers dug into Quentin’s body, eliciting their own reaction in turn.  
  
“I nee— ah, fuck,” Eliot gasped, hot breath against Quentin’s neck. “I need a hero. Willing to brave many perils. To retrieve the royal cock ring. For without it I fear I shall never come again.”  
  
Breaking character, Quentin locked eyed with him.  
  
“I have one if you’re serious.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Quentin sank into the mattress beside Eliot. It was getting late and he was exhausted, but he didn’t want the night to end. Next to him, Eliot’s stomach growled. Rolling onto his side, Quentin faced the other man.  
  
“We can get room service if you’re hungry.”  
  
A clump of hair fell over Quentin’s face as he lay on his side. Before he had a chance to react, Eliot reached out to brush it out of his face. The look on his face was surprisingly soft.   
  
“Usually you buy someone dinner before sex.”  
  
“If it matters that much to you,” Quentin gave a fake sigh, “We can go again after we eat.”  
  
Sitting up, Eliot gave him an amused smile.  
  
“You’re a bold man, Quentin Coldwater.”  
  
“At best,” Quentin admitted, “I am a hungry man.”  
  
Eliot brought his hand to his chin as he pretended to ponder the offer. The longer he posed, the closer Quentin got to dying of exposure from being near someone so attractive. It was almost unreasonable.   
  
“Can we get drinks too?”  
  
“The mini fridge has a bunch of those little bottles.”  
  
Eliot looked at the fridge, then back at Quentin.  
  
“Do you have glassware?”  
  
Quentin nodded.  
  
“Perfect!” Eliot clapped his hands together. “I’ll make drinks.”  
  
Standing, he went to inspect the fridge. Quentin watched as he took stock of his supplies, still completely nude. What he would give to bury his face in that ass. Eliot gave him a knowing smile when he caught him staring.  
  
“One thing at a time, Coldwater.”  
  
“We can always order something with the food instead.”  
  
A dismissive hand waved in Quentin’s direction as Eliot considered his options.  
  
“Now where’s the fun in that?”  
  
After an eternity spent scouring the after-hours menu, the duo agreed pizza and a salad was the safest option. At Eliot’s request, he also ordered grapefruit juice, sparkling water, and a tiny jar of honey. This one night stand was turning into an outright sleepover.  
  


* * *

  
  
The other side of the bed was still warm when Quentin woke the next day. He would have been disappointed if it wasn’t for the way his body ached. After a night of drinking and fucking, Quentin was sore and dehydrated. And so fucking hungover.  
  
After taking what felt like an hour to sit up, he noticed something on the nightstand. A piece of hotel stationery folded around two $20 bills.  
  
‘For pizza, thanks —Eliot’ At the end was a number scribbled in haste. A phone number!  
  
The excitement of getting Eliot’s number outweighed the odd brevity of his note.  
  
Staggering across the room, he searched for his cell phone. It was a slow, sluggish hunt as he battled waves of nausea. Why did he leave so much laundry everywhere? It was amazing Eliot hadn’t left when he saw the mess. Maybe Eliot caused the mess.  
  
Triumphantly, he fished his phone from the pocket of his pants. He started typing, then hesitated. It felt too soon to be texting him. Too eager. There needed to be a handbook for texting someone after a one night stand. Or a blog post. Something.  
  
It would probably be better to text Eliot when he was less hungover.  
  
Pausing in front of the mirror, he assessed the damage. Aside from looking like shit, something was wrong. What was around his neck? He didn’t own a tie. And he definitely didn’t own a floral brocade tie.


	2. in this together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin makes friends and eats too much cereal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small confession: I went to an online school and have only set foot on a college campus like twice. So... sorry if you were looking for accuracy in your High School Musical themed porn.

_**10:27 AM**_  
  
Finding a parking spot on the first day of classes had gone much smoother than Quentin had anticipated. Used to the chaos of a large State school, he’d arrived on campus with almost three hours to spare. Unfortunately for Quentin, Brakebills was a small private school.  
  
Book in hand, he was waiting out the gap in the corner booth of the campus coffee shop. His coffee cooled on the table in front of him as he read.  
  
“Fillory can wait, Q.” A single finger tilted the book in his hand back, revealing a familiar face standing in front of him.  
  
“Jules!” Quentin beamed.  
  
He stood to embrace his friend. After a summer of meaning to catch up with each other, it was good to finally see her again. Running into her before his first class of the new semester helped take the edge off some of his stress. A woman approached holding two cups.  
  
“You left me to carry everything,” the tough-looking stranger gave a fake pout.  
  
“Sorry,” Julia sighed, taking her cup from the woman. “But look! It’s Quentin! The friend I told you was transferring here this semester.”  
  
“So it is.”  
  
The woman looked at Quentin the way a bouncer sizes up someone at a club. Her expression told him to not even dare to ask for a hug. Unsure of what to make of the cold greeting, he gave a stiff wave.  
  
“Quentin, this is Kady.”  
  
Kady responded to Quentin’s awkward wave with an amused smile.  
  
“Professional secretary.”  
  
“I said I was sorry!” Julia protested, then paused. “Oh no, I forgot to order the—“  
  
“Coffee cake,” Kady nodded, then turned to reveal the package secured under her elbow. “Got it after you ran off.”  
  
Quentin watched the two interact, piecing together what was happening. Their banter. The way Kady looked at Julia. The pair joined him in his corner booth.  
  
“So how long have you two been togeth—”  
  
“Oh, we’re not—no. I mean...” Julia stammered, looking from Kady to Quentin.  
  
“Ah! Sorry, you just—“  
  
Last semester he’d heard Julia had a new girlfriend. Unfortunately, the clusterfuck that resulted in him switching schools also meant he and Julia hadn’t kept each other up-to-date in their personal lives.  
  
“No, that was Marina. I’m sorry, Q. I thought I told you when we broke up.”  
  
Julia was red with embarrassment, but Kady looked more disappointed than anything. Clearly Quentin had hit some sort of nerve. Internally, he berated himself for immediately sticking his foot in his mouth. Great first impression, Q.  
  
“Kady and I became friends through work,” Julia explained, trying to fill the awkward silence. “Back when I was still volunteering at that women’s shelter.”  
  
“I spent a lot of time there when I was a teenager,” Kady shrugged. “So I like to bring donations or volunteer whenever I have the chance.”  
  
“Or fight the belligerents who show up looking for their partners.”  
  
The trio continued talking as Quentin’s first class loomed on the horizon. Each time he looked at his phone his heart beat a little faster. Changing schools hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Until he started his first class, part of him would still feel like this was some sort of weird extended vacation.  
  
“You okay, Q?” Julia asked when she noticed him nervously running his thumb over the edge of The Girl Who Told Time.  
  
“Eh,” he grimaced. “New school jitters. My first class starts soon. Ethics For Dummies, or something like that.”  
  
Julia’s face lit up.  
  
“That’s where we’re headed next!”  
  
“You guys are taking Ethics too?” Quentin’s anxiety receded slightly at the thought of having a friend to turn to if he got lost.  
  
“Well technically I’m crashing,” Kady corrected.  
  
“Did you miss the deadline?”  
  
“Work was super busy this summer,” Kady sighed. “By the time I had a moment to myself, half my requirements were already full. So I’m hoping if I sit in on a few of them I can sneak my way onto the roster.”  
  
“Makes sense. So where do you work?”  
  
Kady’s posture stiffened. She exchanged looks with Julia, who gave her arm a reassuring pat. Quentin wondered if he’d asked something he shouldn’t have.  
  
“It’s, uh, a harm reduction place,” Kady said in a defensive tone. “Needle exchange. Naloxone distribution. That sort of thing.”  
  
“Oh, cool. So is it like anyone can get Naloxone or do you have to be... certified or something?”

* * *

  
  
**_12:03 PM_**  
  
“Okay, shut up now,” A haggard-looking Russian man stood at the front of the room. “Class starts.”  
  
The room fell silent as he looked out over the group.  
  
“Alright. Well. I am professor Mayakovsky. Not Machiavelli. Not Maraschino. You will learn to say it right, or you will fail my class.”  
  
He motioned to the red-haired woman sitting at his desk.  
  
“This is Marina. She will be my assistant this semester. During labs, she will babysit you. And no, you will not get better grades if you fuck her. So please leave her alone.”  
  
“Shit,” Julia whispered beside him.  
  
He shot her a glance, mouthing the word ‘Marina’. She nodded. Beside her, Kady looked like she was ready to explode. So that was Julia’s ex.  
  
In the first twenty minutes, several students walked out. Mayakovsky spat on the tile as another person made their exit.  
  
“Every year you get these fucking weirdos. They want to debate ‘usefulness’ of genocide in entry-level ethics class. You do this, I’ll give extra credit to whoever beats you up in parking lot.”  
  
A murmur spread throughout the room. Some students would definitely be getting their schedules changed after class.  
  
“Yes, yes. I know. But I’m too good to fire. Now. Any questions so far?”  
  
A blonde woman a few seats away from Quentin raised her hand.  
  
“On the syllabus it says—“  
  
“Syllabus is copied from internet,” Mayakovsky interrupted before she could finish her question. “Don’t bother to follow it.”  
  
Someone a few rows behind Quentin raised his hand.  
  
“So does that mean we can like...plagiarize things?”  
  
“Fucking Todd,” Kady groaned under her breath.  
  
“What? No. First rule of ethics: rules do not apply to me because I’m in charge. You are tiny underlings. Do not cheat.”  
  
Before he could continue, the door creaked open.  
  
“Ah, thank you for joining us,” Mayakovsky called. “Buy a fucking wrist watch, yes?”  
  
Eyes fixed on his desk, Quentin tried to avoid looking at whoever was standing in the doorway. It was hard enough being late without half the room staring at you. The door shut behind them, sending a blast of air in Quentin’s direction.  
  
There was a familiar smell he couldn’t quite place. It brought him back to a moment of comfort. Feeling the summer breeze on his face, looking up at the stars.  
  
Fuck. He knew exactly what he was smelling. The fragrance that clung to his pillow for days. An opportunity that he overthought until the window closed. It couldn’t be.  
  
His head shot up as he faced the source of the smell. Less than ten feet away stood a familiar face, floral vest and all, accompanied by a woman dressed like a high-fashion dominatrix. And Eliot did not look as excited to see Quentin as Quentin was to see him.  
  
Was he upset because Quentin never texted him? The past month had been so busy. Opening his phone, he stared at Eliot’s number. The message was still in his drafts. Would it be weird to text him? Would it be weird not to?  
  
Shaking thumbs began to type. The potential for embarrassment was worth the risk if it meant even a sliver of a chance to talk to Eliot again. As much as he was trying to have reasonable expectations, his hopes were already up.  
  
‘Hey, it’s Quentin. I guess great minds think alike.’  
  
Oof. No. That was weird. He didn’t need to write an entire essay.  
  
‘hey its q, small world huh’  
  
He hovered over the send button. Should he add an emoji? Would that be weird? Was it weird to send a text without an emoji?  
  
“If you are going to text in class,” Mayakovsky sighed, interrupting Quentin’s crisis, “Please do it above desk so I can tell who is playing with dick.”  
  
The sudden attention directed at Quentin made him flinch, accidentally sending the message.  
  
“Sorry,” he sighed, sinking into his seat.  
  
Eliot’s reply was so fast Quentin almost missed it. The white heat of embarrassment faded as his excitement grew. Heart pounding, he opened the message.  
  
‘lmao stop playing with ur dick in class ;)’  
  
He grinned at his phone. Before he could think of a response, another message from Eliot appeared.  
  
‘meet me after class’

* * *

  
**_12:49 PM_**  
  
In a hurry to see Eliot, Quentin bolted almost immediately after class ended. This was a mistake. Heart pounding through his chest, he was forced to pose casually by the door as everyone left. Multiple people, including Julia and Kady, shot him confused looks as they dispersed. He was very bad at pretending to be casual.  
  
“Don’t forget, El,” the woman who’d entered late with Eliot called from the doorway. “You owe me lunch!”  
  
Running a sweaty hand through his hair, Quentin braced himself. Now was the moment of truth. Mind racing with potential outcomes, he was nauseous with excitement.  
  
Every greeting he’d rehearsed in his head flew out the window when he spotted Eliot’s curls emerging from the room. A half-drunk memory could never compete with reality. He wanted the image of Eliot adjusting his sleeves embedded permanently in his mind. What a cruel trick of nature to make a man so effortlessly handsome.  
  
“Hey,” Quentin breathed, looking up at the person who’d haunted his dreams for the past month.  
  
“Hi,” Eliot offered a timid smile.  
  
Neither knew what to say to the other. Seeing Eliot again made Quentin feel tragically under-dressed. He squirmed as Eliot’s eyes scanned his body. Was it interest or judgment? Shit. He had to say something before the window of opportunity closed.  
  
“Sorry. Uh. About the whole texting thing,” Quentin said, bouncing the toe of his sneaker against the tile. “I thought about you. A lot. But then—“  
  
“Caught you!” A woman came up from behind Eliot and wrapped her arms against his waist. Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “I—Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Eliot said as warmly as he could muster.  
  
It was not fine. Dread setting in, Quentin tried not to jump to conclusions. Kissing people on the cheek could be platonic. Friends can hug each other. He wanted to give Eliot the benefit of the doubt. There was no reason to assume the worst.  
  
“I’m Fen,” the woman smiled, obviously feeling self-conscious about interrupting their conversation. “Eliot’s girlfriend.”  
  
Shit.  
  
“Quentin,” he smiled awkwardly, hopes crashing like the Hindenburg. “You two are so...cute. Together. How long have you been dating?”  
  
A month had passed since he met Eliot. It was possible they’d gotten together afterward. There must be some sort of explanation that made sense.  
  
The look on Eliot’s face told him otherwise.  
  
“Almost two years,” Fen grinned, grasping Eliot’s hand in hers.  
  
“Nice.”  
  
There were no words. As the silence settled, it became increasingly obvious that Fen had thrown off the conversation. Quentin regarded the couple, trying to hide his disappointment. Meanwhile, Eliot seemed to be cycling through all seven stages of grief.  
  
“So you two know each other?” Fen smiled, trying to make up for the weirdness her presence was causing. “I thought I’d met all of Eliot’s friends by now.”  
  
Nausea flooded Quentin’s body. The fact that she was trying so hard to be friendly made him feel worse. It wasn’t her fault this conversation was something he would relive in hell.  
  
Some small, petty part of him wanted to ruin everything. This was his chance to make Eliot feel as bad as he did. He could tell her exactly how they met. How Eliot was the one who approached him. How many times he came before they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, the fear in Eliot’s eyes told him the reality wouldn’t be as satisfying.  
  
“He—“ Eliot started to make an excuse but was interrupted by Quentin.  
  
“I just transferred here,” he smiled at Fen, then Eliot. “We met at a party while I was still staying at the hotel. Turns out we have Ethics together now.”  
  
“Oh! Looks like we’ll be classmates then!” Fen beamed. “I just had my schedule changed. That’s actually what I was about to tell Eliot.”  
  
This was the worst piece of news Quentin had ever heard. He searched for something to say.  
  
“Right. I’d actually just been telling Eliot about someone I met at the party. I really liked them but. Uh. It didn’t work out.”  
  
Eliot raised his eyebrow, lower lip trembling slightly.  
  
“And I,” he cleared his throat, “was about to tell Quentin that sometimes things are better left as what-ifs.”  
  
“Yeah. Right.” It was hard for Quentin to not sound bitter. “Well, I gotta be...somewhere.”  
  
Tears began to fall the minute he turned around. He felt like a fool. If Eliot’s girlfriend had been some horrible snob he could at least feel vindicated. Then he would have the small victory of knowing he was better than her. But Fen was a genuinely nice person. If it wasn’t for Eliot, he’d want to be her friend.  
  
Now Quentin was stuck going through the rest of his classes with Fen’s kind smile burnt in his memory. There was no justice.

* * *

  
  
**_7:35 PM_**  
  
Maybe Eliot was right. Maybe some things were better off as what-ifs. Daydreams, when injected with truth, quickly become nightmares. An idealized memory was the one that could never disappoint him.  
  
The box of Lucky Charms crinkled as Quentin reached in with his bare hand. Dry marshmallow bits crumbled beneath his teeth the same way meeting Fen had crushed his hopes.  
  
It was a harsh call back to reality. The memory that helped him face the mounting stress of transferring schools now made college itself painful. This was Quentin’s punishment for getting his hopes up. For thinking things would ever improve. What right did he have to think he could matter to someone that way?  
  
He pondered a small green marshmallow between his fingers before condemning it to be crushed to death between his molars. Eliot was the symptom of a much larger problem. Quentin was tired of feeling used. Part of him worried he’d been so desperate for affection that he saw romance in what was nothing more than another straight man’s experimentation.  
  
He stared at the television as Chad showed Ryan Evans that he didn’t dance with a baseball-themed dance. A small part of him worried he was the Sharpay of the situation. It’s possible he had misread things between him and Eliot. Was he playing the part of the delusional movie homewrecker?  
  
Although... Eliot hadn’t seemed too thrilled to see his girlfriend. But that was probably because he wasn’t happy to be caught.  
  
“Dude,” his roommate, Penny, called from the doorway, “It’s only the first day.”  
  
“So?” Quentin shoveled another handful of cereal into his mouth, eyes fixed on the musical baseball game.  
  
“So isn’t it kind of early in the school year to be eating your feelings to High School Musical?”  
  
“Actually, it’s the sequel.”  
  
“I don’t—“ Penny gave a frustrated sigh, “My point is, you’re getting a head start on being a huge fucking bummer, okay?”  
  
“Sorry,” he sat up from his spot on the couch, “I can go mope out of sight if that’s better.”  
  
“No, that’s... not my point.”  
  
Penny crossed the room. Sitting on the coffee table, he faced Quentin.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong, dude?”  
  
Quentin looked at his roommate with skepticism. Because Penny spent evenings DJ-ing, they never seemed to be home at the same time. Part of him assumed Penny intentionally worked those hours so he wouldn’t have to be around Quentin. They didn’t know each other enough for his concern to appear genuine.  
  
“It’s stupid,” Quentin stared at the edge of the coffee table, avoiding eye contact.  
  
“Yeah, okay. If it’s so trivial then why’s it got you upset?”  
  
Deep down, Quentin wanted to talk about it. If he told someone he spent a lot of time with, he’d have to worry about them figuring out it was Eliot. As upset as he was, he didn’t want to risk outing the other man. He and Penny, however, never spent time together. Sure, they both had Mayakovsky’s class. But that hardly made a difference.  
  
“My one night stand is in one of my classes,” Quentin confessed after weighing the odds. “Turns out they weren’t single when we met.”  
  
“But you didn’t know, right?” Penny shrugged. “That’s their problem then.”  
  
“It’s just. I don’t know. It’s disappointing. I’m allowed to be sad about it, okay?”  
  
Penny laughed.  
  
“You’re the one who said it was stupid, not me.”  
  
“I guess it’s just like... They gave me their number. But I never got around to texting them. So it feels like somehow this is my fault for not acting fast enough.”  
  
“Or you could have gotten even more attached and the reveal would have hurt even more.”  
  
Penny was right. It was weird. This was the first conversations they’d had since establishing apartment rules.  
  
“Why do you care?”  
  
Penny shrugged and stood up.  
  
“This is just self-interest. Maybe I just don’t want my roommate bumming people out when I throw parties.”  
  
He disappeared down the hallway before Quentin could respond. Penny’s excuse didn’t make sense. One of the first rules Penny gave him when he moved in was no parties. Something about spending all night working at clubs and needing somewhere to unwind. Quentin hoped this wasn’t some sort of fake kindness that would bite him in the ass.  
  
After a while Penny emerged again, styrofoam takeout containers in hand. Quentin watched in confusion as he brought out plates and opened each box. A blend of Indian spices filled the air. Suddenly he was aware of how little he’d eaten between classes.  
  
“If you’re going to comfort eat, let’s do it right,” Penny declared, taking the cereal box from him.  
  
“But...why?” Quentin looked at the array of food in amazement. He couldn’t decide where to start.  
  
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a few options. Vegetable samosas, chicken curry, lamb biryani. It’s better than eating a pound of shitty filler cereal.”  
  
“You didn’t have to do this, Penny.”  
  
“New house rule,” Penny said, spooning basmati rice onto his plate, “Quentin can mope, but he doesn’t have to do it alone.”


	3. doubt thou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin puts up a poster. Margo opens a door.

During the day, Quentin was fine. He went to class, met up with Julia and Kady for lunch, and generally went about his life as if he wasn’t carrying a soul-crushing secret. It wasn’t until late at night, when the assignments were finished and his mind was free to wander, that the heaviness set in.  
  
The disappointment itself was momentary. Knowing the truth about Eliot sucked, but he could live with it. Unfortunately, there was no escaping the constant reminder. Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, the knife was driven a bit deeper into his heart when he saw Fen’s smiling face.  
  
There was no way to uninstall his feelings for Eliot. Given the chance, he would happily erase any memory of their meeting. But there was no magic solution. At least at Brakebills people were looking out for him. Without Julia and Penny, he would have spiraled much harder. Their support made all the difference.  
  
Aside from Eliot, there had been no other major catastrophes since starting school. It was almost funny in a way. If Quentin had chosen to stay at any other hotel that summer, his life would be running smoothly. Julia, on the other hand, was facing a domino effect from her previous semester.  
  
“She’s going to find some way to punish me,” Julia sighed, flipping through her Philosophy textbook. “Marina’s always been vindictive.”  
  
“I thought she broke up with you?” Quentin still didn’t fully understand the Marina situation.  
  
“Aghhhh, it’s complicated,” she groaned, lying facedown on her open book.  
  
“It was bullshit,” Kady said, rolling her eyes. “Marina broke up with her to prove some sort of point. But only because she thought Julia would take her back. So Marina broke up with her, but technically she ended it.”  
  
“Sounds like you had a stressful semester,” Quentin said sympathetically.  
  
“It wasn’t as bad as...” Julia’s eyes widened as she realized what she was about to say. “You know. Maybe what other people might have gone through. But it was unpleasant.”  
  
The conversation took a sudden dive. Julia was worried she’d embarrassed Quentin. Quentin felt bad that Julia didn’t know how to address it. Kady had no idea what was going on. Their table grew quiet as everyone pretended to inspect their books.  
  
Julia was one of the few people outside of Quentin’s family who knew why he transferred schools in the middle of his degree. Brakebills, a well-known private school, seemed like an obvious upgrade from a state school in the middle of a large city. It was an easy excuse that made Quentin sound less like a Victorian woman sent to convalesce in the countryside.  
  
At that moment, Quentin remembered promising to help put up promotional flyers for Penny. Spotting an open space on the coffee shop’s memo board, he pulled out one of the posters he’d tucked into his notebook.  
  
After pinning up his roommate’s poster, he took a minute to scope out the board. He thought about what Penny said about isolating himself. Maybe it would help to join some type of club. It would give him a way to meet people he had things in common with.  
  
In the lower left corner, tucked behind an ad for home-baked edibles, was a small slip of paper. Lifting the corner of the larger flyer to investigate closer revealed a plain business card. There were no illustrations. Not even a border. Just a 12-point sans serif text with the location and days the club met.  
  
“Magic club?” He read the title aloud as if that would make things clearer.  
  
Did they mean the card game? Sleight of hand? Maybe it was some sort of Wicca thing. He was confused but curious.  
  
“What are you looking at?”  
  
Quentin jumped, surprised that anyone would talk to him. He turned to face someone he recognized all too well. The woman who’d come to class late with Eliot. A small hope sparked in the back of his mind. Maybe Eliot had sent her with some sort of message.  
  
“Magic club,” Quentin choked, gesturing stiffly at the board. “Sounds interesting.”  
  
The woman moved forward and frowned at the small business card. Watching her demeanor, Quentin’s small fantasy collapsed. Their meeting was nothing more than a cruel coincidence. The universe was toying with him.  
  
“Probably a front for something,” she concluded. “Look how little information they gave. Good way to wake up missing an organ.”  
  
“That sounds... unlikely?”  
  
She shrugged.  
  
“Why risk it, though. Right? You look like the kind of guy who needs his liver.”  
  
“Well I—um,” Quentin stared at her. “I’m gonna... walk away now. But uh. Thanks for the advice? I guess.”  
  
She grinned as he fled. When Quentin was no longer in sight, Eliot crept to her side.  
  
“Bambi...?” There was an edge of concern in his voice. “What are you doing?”  
  
Alarm bells had started going off when he noticed the pair talking. He worried that Margo had somehow figured things out. It made no sense, but Eliot was still haunted by the lack of privacy from his childhood. He couldn't help but fear others would go to his father's extremes.  
  
“Some nerd was checking out our ‘poster’. Don’t worry, I handled it.”  
  
“Those stupid club poster requirements,” Eliot sighed. “As long as you’re playing nicely.”  
  
“Do I have to?” Margo pouted at him. “It’ll be hard to keep the con going if we have members.”

* * *

  
  
“‘There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’” Mayakovsky sat on top of his desk, looking out over the class. “Shakespeare gave ethics professors everywhere and easy quote to pull for centuries to come. Is he right? Do decisions exist without moral value until we try to justify them? What about Kant? ‘Act only according to that maxim by which you can at the same time will that it should become universal law.’”  
  
Quentin wondered if his professor meant to pronounce the philosopher’s name as ‘cunt’. With anyone else, he would have doubted it was intentional. But there was a shred of plausibility with Mayakovsky. He shifted in his seat as he continued to take notes. Quizzes were often unpredictable, and he would rather take too many notes than too little.  
  
“That’s a bunch of fancy bullshit for morals are rules you can never break. According to Cunt, you must never lie. So what if the lie helps a person feel better? Someone asks if their grandfather suffered when he died? The nurse must say ‘yes, horribly.’ Because that’s true! Rules must be absolute, he argues. If a man can lie, the truth means nothing.”  
  
“And if you think about it, it’s true. Anyone can lie to you any time. So fun. How do you know Cunt said that? Because you trust me to not lie. But why? I have no reason to tell truth. And so! To demonstrate this, you will do your next assignment in groups that I choose.”  
  
The room gave a collective groan.  
  
“Yes, yes. I know. Sucks to be students. You will work together to write an essay on one of the branches of ethics. Together you must argue for or against your topic. You must all take same stance. Four pages, APA format. Marina will pass out the assignment sheet while I read off your groups. When I read your name, join the group and get to work.”  
  
Group work always made Quentin nervous. In a class with Fen and Eliot, there was a lot of potential for disaster. Some of Mayakovsky's lectures had already struck a nerve. There was a sliver of a chance he would be working with Fen to condemn hypothetical situations he’d already committed in real life.  
  
As it turned out, that wasn’t too far off. Penny and Eliot’s friend were part of his group. Gritting his teeth, he approached their desks. The pair was already flirting when he arrived.  
  
“Sorry Penny,” Quentin sighed when he sat down. “No escaping me.”  
  
Penny was a nice person, but Quentin knew his work schedule. It wasn’t uncommon to wake up at 6 am to find him finishing an assignment after a late night at work. Working on something together also meant neither would have a moment to breathe. They were becoming closer, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend that much time together.  
  
“Not your fault, Q,” Penny laughed. “Mayakovsky’s a bastard.”  
  
“And I guess you’re Margo?”  
  
“Organ donor,” she smiled. “We meet again.”  
  
“Hey guys.” The fourth member of their group appeared.  
  
“Todd,” Margo rolled her eyes. “Are you lost?”  
  
“Good one,” Todd laughed. “I’m in your group!”  
  
By the end of class, the group had made no progress. Todd had a few suggestions, but Margo seemed reluctant to agree with his ideas. The only thing they managed to settle on was meeting at Margo’s address on Thursday evening.

* * *

  
  
Penny and Quentin looked around the room in surprise. Margo’s apartment was surprisingly nice for a college student. It made theirs look like a storage unit. Now he understood why she wanted to work at her place. Anything less would be a downgrade.  
  
“Loaded parents?” Penny asked as he set his bag down in the living room.  
  
“They wouldn’t buy me water if I was stranded in the Sahara,” Margo scoffed. “This is all me. You’d be surprised how much some of these rich, private school types will pay a well-dressed woman to be mean to them.”  
  
“Nah,” Penny smirked at her, “Makes a _lot_ of sense.”  
  
There was a knock at the door. Margo raised an eyebrow at Penny with a smile as she turned to let the final member of their group in. Quentin groaned internally. It would be hard to get any work done with them flirting the entire time.  
  
Working in Margo’s apartment wasn’t much better than Mayakovsky’s class. Everyone struggled to focus. There was something about group projects that made it difficult to remember anything they learned in class. After a certain point, Penny and Margo gave up on even pretending to work.  
  
“We’ll be right back,” Margo said as she stood. Walking toward her bedroom door, she looked back at Penny.  
  
“It won’t be that fast,” Penny protested.  
  
He turned to Quentin with a cautious look. They were friends enough that Penny at least felt bad ditching him while they were supposed to be working. Quentin gave his roommate a small nod.  
  
Holding down the fort while he got laid seemed like a nice way to thank Penny for being there for him at the start of the semester. Besides, they weren’t getting anything done working this way. Maybe keeping Todd and Margo apart for a bit would make the process easier.  
  
A half hour after Penny and Margo disappeared, Todd had to leave. This left Quentin sitting alone in a stranger’s living room, wondering if he should continue working. He didn’t want to get blamed for not finishing the project. What if he left and Margo and Penny meant to get back to work when they were done? It was unlikely but theoretically possible.  
  
Struggling to make up his mind, Quentin pulled out his British Literature textbook. He might as well be selfish, too. For Quentin, being selfish meant working on his Hamlet essay in the comfort of someone else’s apartment. He was so busy highlighting passages in his textbook that he didn’t hear the front door open.  
  
“Bambi, I—“ Eliot paused when he saw Quentin sitting in his living room. “You’re not Margo.”  
  
“Eliot! I, um. Margo... group project... Mayakovsky,” he stammered.  
  
Well this was great. As if Quentin’s day wasn’t terrible enough, now he looked like some sort of obsessive stalker. With as much time as Margo and Eliot spent together, he should have known they were roommates. He regretted not leaving with Todd.  
  
“And she ditched you in her own apartment?” Quentin’s stomach did flips as Eliot considered his excuse. “Sounds about right.”  
  
He loosened up a bit when he realized Eliot wasn’t rushing to call the cops.  
  
“Both of our roommates are...” he nodded toward Margo’s bedroom door.  
  
“Ah, of course.”  
  
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliot looked around the room. This was their first time alone since he found out Eliot was in a relationship. Neither knew how to act. Pretending to be busy, Quentin made sure his essay papers were in the right order.  
  
“So, uh,” Eliot coughed, “Do you want a drink? It sounds like you’ve had a rough day.”  
  
“That would, yes. That’s. Thank you.”  
  
As he started to reply Quentin remembered the last time Eliot made him a drink. He’d been so wrapped up in feeling awkward that he forgot to make any sort of drink request. By the time he remembered, Eliot was already handing him a glass.  
  
“Cranberry margarita.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Realizing the potential for disaster with a bright red drink held over his essay papers, Quentin quickly put the glass down.  
  
“We’re doing our essay on something about...one of the isms? Eden, maybe? It’s the one where you pleasure yourself. Semenism?”  
  
“Hedonism?” Quentin smiled. “Of course you are.”  
  
“That’s the one!” Eliot smiled back at him. The tension in the room began to lift as the pair laughed. “What glorious task has Margo bestowed upon you?”  
  
He sat beside Quentin on the couch and looked at the open textbook. There was no reason to object to him using his own furniture, but Quentin still felt weird. This was the closest they’d been since...  
  
“Oh, we haven’t decided on anything yet. My group’s having some, uh, artistic differences.”  
  
“Let me guess, Margo hates Todd?”  
  
“Margo hates Todd.”  
  
Things weren’t as stiff between them as Quentin expected, and that almost made it worse. He wanted to be uncomfortable. Sitting on the couch with Eliot laughing about his group felt too nice. They weren’t friends. Eliot still hadn’t apologized.  
  
“You’re doing a lot of work for someone with no work to do then,” Eliot rested his arm on top of the sofa. His relaxed posture only annoyed Quentin more. How dare he make him want to relax in his arms.  
  
“Oh, this is,” Quentin coughed awkwardly. “This is for BritLit. Shakespeare essay. Super boring.”  
  
“What play? I’ve done a few for theater stuff.”  
  
Eliot leaned forward to inspect the passages Quentin highlighted. The warmth from his body made it hard for Quentin to breathe. Classics were the last thing on his mind right now. He could barely parse the meaning of some of the more elaborate lines with the blood rushing away from his brain.  
  
“Hamlet. I’m writing...” God, it was so hard to think straight when Eliot smelled so good. He needed to focus. “It’s, uh. An essay. Kind of a speculation I guess. About who killed Ophelia.”  
  
“What’s your pitch?”  
  
He reclined again, giving Quentin room to breathe again.  
  
“Okay, so Hamlet already has a body count by the time she dies, right?” He turned to face Eliot. Any arousal he had was being focused on being excited about analyzing Shakespeare. “He’s just obsessively going after the need to avenge his father without really thinking through the consequences. Stabbing Polonius. Accidentally poisoning his mom. Every step he takes toward revenge lights his personal life on fire because his tunnel vision is getting so— What are you laughing at?”  
  
As he spoke, he’d caught the amused look Eliot was giving him. Grinning from ear to ear, he watched Quentin’s passion for the topic grow. Seeing the look he had when Quentin wasn’t looking at him made Quentin nervous. He wondered if Eliot really wanted to hear what he had to say.  
  
“I”m not laughing,” Eliot laughed.  
  
“That’s... you just laughed! Right there!”  
  
“You just seem really into this stuff...” Eliot took a deep breath. “Maybe I think it’s nice or whatever, okay? Ignore me. Keep going.”  
  
A small smile crept across Quentin’s lips. Eliot liked hearing him ramble! Wait, no he shouldn’t be excited about that. He was still mad at Eliot. He didn’t have feelings for Eliot. The butterflies building in his stomach were completely unrelated to being complimented by the man sitting next to him.  
  
“Um, okay, so anyways. What if Hamlet killed Ophelia? Actively. Off-stage. The whole play is about nothing being certain and whether or not horrible actions can be justified. So someone could argue that, like so much of the damage Hamlet has done, Ophelia’s death was something he justified as a means to an end.”  
  
“Or maybe it was just another case of Hamlet not thinking through the impact his actions would have,” Eliot offered.  
  
“That doesn’t absolve him of all the damage he left in his wake. Not meaning to hurt people doesn’t make it any easier for them to deal with.”  
  
Eliot frowned. They weren’t talking about Hamlet any more.  
  
“Quentin—“  
  
He began to reach out to him when Margo’s bedroom door swung open, interrupting them.  
  
“Listen—“  
  
Margo froze at the sight of her best friend on the couch with her classmate. In an attempt at a recovery, Eliot ran his hand through his hair. Very casual. Everything was fine.  
  
“You didn’t tell me we were having company,” Eliot smiled at his roommate innocently. “And then you _abandoned_ the poor boy.”  
  
“What am I, a lost child?” Quentin muttered. He wasn’t done being upset with Eliot and didn’t want to have to pretend things were okay in front of Margo.  
  
“Not now,” Eliot stood, patting the top of Quentin’s head affectionately, “Mommy and Daddy are talking.”  
  
“And you’re just being a good host?” Margo rolled her eyes.  
  
Redness began to creep into his cheeks as Quentin realized what Margo must think she walked in on. She wasn’t entirely incorrect, which made it even worse. It was embarrassing that someone else had caught on to the tension between him and Eliot. He wanted to dissolve into the sofa’s cushions.  
  
“I don’t know,” Eliot turned to Quentin. “How satisfied would you say you are with the service you received today?”  
  
Embarrassment was quickly replaced with annoyance. Things weren’t fixed between them. This wasn’t funny. If Eliot was trying to make him feel worse, it was working.  
  
“I’m gonna just... go now.” Quentin slung his book bag over his shoulder and stood. He was in such a hurry that he bumped his shin on the coffee table. “How’s that for a review?”  
  
There was more anger in his voice than he meant, but at that moment he didn’t care what impression he gave either of them. After an evening of being ignored by his group partners and being egged on by Eliot, he didn’t care if he sounded upset. He didn’t even stop to wonder where Penny had snuck off to. All he wanted to do was go home and wait for an edible to kick in while he sat in the bath.  
  
Halfway down the hallway, he heard a door open and close in the distance. After weeks of dreaming up some world where Eliot caved and chased after him, Quentin was done hoping. It would have been nice, but it wasn’t going to happen. Eliot didn’t care that it hurt, and he was just going to have to live with that.  
  
“Quentin!”  
  
The sound of Eliot’s voice was almost enough to knock Quentin’s feet out from under him. He stopped but didn’t turn around. Tears threatened to form as he fought back the rising panic. The approaching footsteps may as well have belonged to some sort of horror movie villain.  
  
He turned, as calmly as he could manage, to face him. When Eliot saw the look on his face, he faltered. Seeing the regret on Eliot’s face made things worse. At least if he consistently ignored Quentin’s feelings Quentin could feel justified in his anger. He didn’t know what to do if Eliot seemed capable of remorse.  
  
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Eliot nervously turned the British Literature textbook Quentin left behind in his hands. Knowing he’d lose it the minute he made eye contact with Eliot, Quentin was suddenly entranced by the pattern on the hallway carpet. As upset as he was, deep down Quentin wanted to be comforted by him. And wanting that intimacy only made him feel more upset with himself.  
  
“Your book...” Eliot said finally. His voice was stiff and hollow.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Quentin’s voice cracked, giving away the feelings he was trying to internalize. Tears began to fall as the emotions settled into the crevices of his heart. He didn’t know what he was feeling, just that it was a lot. The embarrassment he had in the apartment doubled. Feeling these things was one thing, but it was even worse to let Eliot know he was experiencing them.  
  
To his surprise, there was suddenly a warm body holding him in a one-armed embrace. Burying his face in Eliot’s shoulder felt like coming home after a long day. He began to cry even harder. Even through Quentin’s stuffy nose, Eliot smelled amazing. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.  
  
Once more, he found himself holding desperately onto Eliot’s body. Digging his fingers into the fabric of Eliot’s vest, he clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping Quentin from floating into the atmosphere. If he let go, Eliot would be gone forever. With the panic beginning to wind down, he realized Eliot’s hand was in his hair, gently stroking the back of his head as he cried.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Eliot muttered in his ear. Quentin stood back and wiped his nose. A pool of snot stained the shoulder he’d been resting on, giving Quentin a small sense of revenge. “It wasn’t supposed to—“  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Quentin didn’t know if Eliot was talking about what happened in the apartment or his relationship with Fen. He just didn’t want to have to conversation in a space where anyone could be watching. It would take a while for what just happened to set in. The edible he planned on eating when he got home grew bigger with each passing minute.  
  
“Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,” Eliot said, holding out Quentin’s book. “Didn’t Hamlet say that?”  
  
“Well technically—“ Quentin stopped mid-correction when he saw the seriousness in Eliot’s eyes. “Yeah, uh, something like that.”  
  
Taking it back from Eliot, the textbook carried more than the weight of its pages. This felt like the beginning of progress between them, but he was still confused by Eliot’s behavior. Being comforted by him threw off the version of Eliot he’d constructed in his head. Seeing him as the bad guy in the situation would have been easier than whatever this was.  
  
“I should go deal with Margo...”  
  
He looked from Quentin to the carpet. It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but Quentin didn’t want to push things.  
  
“And I need to... not stand in hallways crying I guess.”  
  
“Good plan.”  
  
Eliot offered Quentin a small, apologetic smile before turning toward his apartment. Guilt was tearing him apart, but he didn’t know what else to say. Talking about his feelings ranked a few slots below farm work and family reunions on Eliot’s list of least favorite activities. Jokes were the only way he knew how to deal with stressful situations.  
  
When he reached the door of his apartment, he braced himself. Margo was definitely going to have questions about Eliot chasing after a stranger. In theory, he could explain his summer affair, but he knew she’d be angry. He didn’t want to find out if she cared about him or Fen more.  
  
“What the _fuck_ was that about, El?” Margo started the minute he entered the room.  
  
“He forgot his book.”  
  
“So you let him cry on your shoulder about it?”  
  
His roommate gestured to the wet spot Quentin had left on his vest. Fuck. Also, disgusting. In an endearing sort of way. Double fuck. Since when does Eliot Waugh find snot stains on his favorite vest charming? He was in too deep. Sinking into the couch with a sigh, he picked up Quentin’s unfinished drink.  
  
“He was having a rough day. You’re really giving him hell with this group project.”  
  
“Cut the shit, dude,” a dangerous smile spread across her face. “You like him!”  
  
“What?! Pfft. Since when do disheveled super-nerds catch my interest.”  
  
He took a large mouthful of his drink and made a mental note to not use so much cranberry next time. The bitterness almost overpowered his surprise at Margo catching on so quickly. That’s what he gets for living with his best friend. And for trying to make impressive drinks while distracted.  
  
“Since always? Remember your childhood crush on Milo from that Atlantis movie?”  
  
“If I’d known you were doing to hold Milo Thatch against me, I wouldn’t have gotten drunk enough to tell you.”  
  
“Really though,” Margo sat on the arm of the couch and looked at him, tone suddenly serious, “You made him a drink. Using the _nice_ glassware. Should I be worried?”  
  
He took a large mouthful of the cocktail to give himself a moment to come up with something. It was so fucking sour. If his horrible communication skills hadn’t run Quentin off, this botched drink would have. The shock of cranberry to his system was still better than trying to explain things to Margo.  
  
“I just couldn’t help trying to show off. Is it illegal to want to impress a cute guy?”  
  
“Yes! When you have a girlfriend, absolutely!”  
  
She was being stern with him, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. It wasn’t unusual for Eliot to try to get attention from his flavor of the week. As much as he liked to flirt, however, Quentin was the first time he’d cheated on Fen. Usually the relationships Eliot ruined were someone else’s.  
  
“Don’t worry, Bambi,” he laughed, trying to ease her worries. “So maybe I think he’s pretty. It’s totally harmless.”  
  
“It better fucking be,” her face softened as she ran her fingers through the short curls at the base of his neck. “I just don’t want to see you or Fen getting hurt. You’re the only family each other has now. Don’t throw that away just because something new has you curious.”  
  
“I won’t,” Eliot promised.  
  
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Quentin wasn’t new, and he wasn’t curious. His interest in him wasn’t borne out of boredom with his current relationship. It was something more complicated than that. Something he hadn’t quite managed to work out yet. Eliot rarely felt like there was someone he could share all of himself with. Talking to Quentin made him feel like they could have that if he could manage to not fuck something up for two seconds.  
  
Seeing Quentin again at Brakebills was one of the best things to ever happen to Eliot. It was also one of the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Eliot's got this victorian dandy style going I decided all of his cocktails are gonna correspond to language of the flowers stuff For The Drama. Cranberry = cure for heartache, Margarita, which is Spanish for daisy = I'll never tell. Poor Eliot. Poor Quentin!


	4. the heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kady tries to buy a candy bar. Julia makes a deal.

It was the first truly cold day of the year. The crisp chill of the fall breeze made the hair on the back of Quentin’s neck rise. He’d thought about taking a jacket with him on his way out that morning, but settled with a long-sleeved shirt. His fear that he’d be the only person on campus bundled up kept him from wearing more. At this point, any warmth would have been nice after hours of pretending he liked the distant winter’s sharp caress. 

As he shivered down the length of the exposed hallway, he noticed a dark silhouette struggling against the bright backdrop of the cloudy sky. Kady looked as if she was about to put her fist through the glass of the vending machine. The wind picked up, blowing in his face as if warning him to stay away. He took a deep breath in preparation for whatever was about to happen.

“Are you—” his voice caught in his throat when she turned to face him, eyes burning with anger. “Is everything okay?”

She stared at him for a moment as she processed the intrusion. 

“Yeah, I just figured fuck putting money in the machine. Daylight robbery is easier.”

“Oh… okay.”

The way she spoke made it hard for Quentin to tell if she was being sarcastic. To a certain extent, Kady always sounded annoyed when she talked to him. At first, he thought she had something against him, but Julia assured him her speaking voice happened to be naturally terse. 

“I’m not serious, Quentin,” she sighed when she realized he was going to accept her answer. “Someone else got a candy bar stuck, and I thought I could push it free by getting another. But this fucking machine is rigged.”

Her last sentence was punctuated with a swift kick to the base of the vending machine. It answered with a dull thud, taunting Kady’s helplessness. Running on four hours of sleep and possibly hypothermic, Quentin had an idea.

“Let me try.”

Kady shrugged.

“I mean, Julia’s on her way. But go ahead I guess.”

Kneeling on the cold cement, he tried to pretend his kneecaps didn’t feel like they were about to shatter like porcelain plates. He fell onto his ass, despite his best efforts, with an unceremonious grunt. Sticking his hand through the machine’s flap the same way a person sticks their arm in a cow’s backside to check for pregnancy, he grasped upward at the forbidden snacks.

It was close, but not close enough. There was a small spark of disappointment deep in his chest. Scooting closer, he tried to fit as much of his shoulder into the opening as he could. Nope. Nothing. 

When he went to remove his arm, Quentin made a grave discovery. He was stuck. The spiraled piece of metal that held the snacks in place had caught on his sleeve. Quentin was at the mercy of the vending machine.

“Uh… Kady?” He tried to pull back once morecataloging but found that his shoulder was also wedged too far into the opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He looked up at Kady with a sheepish grin. Curse his need to be liked by others. What had been an attempt to get on Kady’s good side was now slightly more complicated. And uncomfortable.

When Julia arrived, she burst into laughter when she saw Quentin sitting on the floor. Her smile grew as she walked closer. Something told him she wouldn’t let him forget this any time soon.

“I know you said you had a snack caught in the machine, Kady,” Quentin and Kady booed her joke as tears of laughter formed in her eyes, “but don’t you— oh my god. This is amazing.”

Quentin wished he could crawl deep into the machine and never emerge. Something always had to go wrong. Life as a vending machine would probably be easier. It was better than having to face the situation he’d gotten himself into.

“I was just trying to help,” he groaned.

“Oh, this is super helpful,” Kady agreed flatly. “You know what, let’s get even more things stuck in the vending machine! Maybe it’ll cancel out!”

“Calm down,” Julia sighed, pulling some spare change from her pocket, “We just have to push the button for whatever row his sleeve is caught on.”

Kady and Quentin watched her insert a dollar into the machine. She stared at the glass as if she were trying to solve an ancient puzzle. The buttons gave indignant beeps as she pressed down on them. The machine was so old. Quentin wondered if the snacks inside were even edible.

The machine creaked as it released the bar from its grip. Unfortunately, it was the candy bar immediately next to Quentin’s arm. The treat slid down his arm before resting in the crook of his elbow. In different circumstances, it would have been an impressive feat.

“Ah fuck, sorry Q. My hand slipped. Why did they put these buttons so close together?”

Now instead of having his sleeve caught on one coil, a second one dug into his arm as well. So far their mission to free two candy bars was going really well. 

“Wait, let me call someone.”

With his free arm, Quentin picked a name from his contact list and slid his thumb across the screen. This wasn’t a call he wanted to make, but he was starting to get tired of sitting on the cold floor.

“Um, hey Penny? It’s a long story—”

“No, it’s not,” Kady interjected with a laugh. 

Unable to move his other hand, he gave her a silent scowl as he continued.

“My arm’s stuck in the vending machine over by that cataloguing class you have and— yeah? Could you? Thanks, I owe you.”

“Really?” Kady scoffed. “Penny? What’s he gonna do?”

“Well, he’s getting his librarian degree,” Quentin reasoned, “and vending machines are like libraries for food?”

“You don’t… return things to vending machines, Q,” Julia sighed.

“Oh, right.”

A grin spread across Kady’s face as she watched the two friends interact. Being stuck in a machine wasn’t how he planned on spending his afternoon, but at least he was making Kady smile.

As the trio waited for Penny, Quentin realized it might not be exactly legal to tamper with campus vending machines. Just what he needed! He imagined trying to explain to his mother that he was expelled from Brakebills for trying to get his friend’s candy bar out of a vending machine.

“Oh wow,” Penny called as he approached, “are we shooting a porno?”

“You know, that’s not a terrible idea,” Julia tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Jules!” Quentin protested.

“No, no. She’s right,” Kady waved a hand dismissively in Quentin’s direction. “This would actually make some great porn. I’m gonna write that down.”

“For what?” Julia asked, amused.

“Do you know how many people are paying their tuition with porn and stuff like that?” Kady scoffed, “I’ve got to know someone who’d like the idea.”

“Guys,” Quentin whined, resting the side of his head against the machine. The cool glass soothed his burning embarrassment. “Can we plan the porn remake _after_ we get my arm out?”

“Of course, Q. But first,” Penny pulled out his phone, “hold that pose. I need a picture of this.”

Quentin looked up at Penny with a frown, but he held his pose. He wanted to be grumpy about it. To be annoyed that everyone was making light of his discomfort. But deep down, he was enjoying himself. Everyone was smiling. It felt nice to be included. Even if that meant losing his arm in a freak vending machine accident.

When he finished, Penny showed the group his snapshots. They were probably the best pictures anyone had taken of Quentin. And he looked like a petulant toddler. After Penny sent everyone a copy, they got to business.

Penny considered the machine for a moment before he spoke.

“Have you tried taking your arm out?”

Julia laughed. Kady groaned. Quentin stared up at his roommate, bewildered.

“Yes, I… that was like the first thing!”

“Then I got nothing,” Penny shrugged.

“Why di—So you just came here to take pictures?”

“Not true,” Penny protested. “Emotional support, dude. I’m _here for you_”

Quentin knew his roommate was joking, but it was nice to have Penny there. Seeing him helped alleviate some of the stress of being trapped in a snack machine. And now he had a new picture for his Twitter profile.

“Fine.”

Across the hall, Julia spotted the blonde from their Ethics class.

“Alice!” She waved at her to join them.

“We’ve got this, Jules,” Kady groaned. “She probably has… something else to do. Somewhere else.”

Kady’s posture grew more defensive as Alice approached. Watching them interact, Quentin wondered what she had against Julia’s partner for Mayakovsky’s group project. Maybe she just didn’t want to get more people involved.

Alice tilted her head slightly when she saw Quentin seated in front of the vending machine.

“You got your arms stuck? Really?”

Her voice was flat and unamused. _Were you really stupid enough to do that?_ Maybe Kady had a good reason for not wanting her involved.

“Don’t talk down to him,” Kady frowned.

Julia looked between the two, confused about her friend’s behavior. It wasn’t as if Kady never expressed herself in a similar tone. 

Rolling his eyes, Penny gave Quentin a pointed look and lifted his chin in Julia’s direction. Quentin looked at them, confused. Then he caught the way Alice looked at Julia. And the way Kady’s scowl deepened when she caught it too. He raised an eyebrow at Penny, who nodded.

Great, a love triangle. As if they needed more tension right now.

Alice stepped closer, inspecting the situation. A small smile flickered across her face when she saw the two candy bars also stuck in the machine. Crossing her arms, she considered their options.

“If it wasn’t for the sleeves you could try something to lubricate his shoulder.”

“Like what?” There was a bite to Kady’s words despite it being the most helpful idea any of them had come up with. 

“Well…lube,” Alice looked at them like the answer was obvious. “Water-based, preferably. Silicon stains.”

“If nothing else works,” Julia suggested, “we could tear your sleeve to try it, Q.”

He winced at the suggestion. It was their best option so far, but he’d rather not ruin his shirt. On the other hand, the longer he sat here the colder it would get. At least this way he’d be able to go back to the apartment and warm up on the couch.

“Fine,” Quentin winced.

Everyone looked at each other, trying to figure out who would be the most likely to have lube on hand. Penny was trying his best to suppress his amusement. This wasn’t helping the suggestion that they were filming porn.

“For fuck’s sake,” Alice rolled her eyes and reached into her bag. “Here.”

She held out a small bottle of lube. The space between the cap and the liquid inside suggested it had been used more than once. Quentin wondered if she was used to situations like this, or…

“So you just wanted an excuse to brag about having lube with you,” Kady teased, although Quentin had noticed a faint look of awe in her expression.

The tension between them was starting to make Quentin’s stomach hurt. Or maybe that was just from sitting in such an uncomfortable position. He started to feel bad for Alice as he watched her face grow red.

“No, I just—” she stammered, suddenly on the spot. Her embarrassment shone through her stiff facade. “I assumed everyone… whatever, okay! It’s more than you were doing to help.”

Shifting on the cold concrete, Quentin realized his ass was completely numb. He wiggled the fingers trapped behind the glass. Aside from a faint tingling, nothing. Too much of his body felt ways bodies weren’t supposed to feel. And he was starting to have to pee.

“Uh, _hey_,” there was a rising panic in his voice as he looked up at the people surrounding him. “I need to get out of here. Like, now.”

“Why don’t you just take your shirt off?”

They group jumped except for Quentin, who jerked his arm and immediately regretted his throbbing shoulder. At some point Todd had approached the group unnoticed.

“Why would he—” Julia began to question Todd but was interrupted.

“No, he definitely needs to do that,” Penny grinned. Next to him, Kady nodded in agreement. 

“Then he can get his shirt back afterward,” Todd gestured to the machine. 

They grew silent. His solution was easier than trying to cut a hole in Quentin’s shirt. And not nearly as risky. Quentin was reluctant to disrobe in the middle of a group in a public hallway. It was cold and the extra attention made him nervous. What if they made fun of the way his nipples looked?

His now-aching shoulder drew his attention back to his previous moment of panic. With a reluctant groan, he began to unbutton his shirt with one hand. 

“I guess we can try.”

The group descended on him like a NASCAR pit-stop team. Once he removed his arm from the shirt’s sleeve, Penny began to cram the fabric into the opening Quentin’s arm was caught in. When they’d managed to shove what they could inside the machine, Kady began to cover his shoulder in lube.

Shivering, in the cold afternoon air, Quentin avoided making eye contact with her. Things were awkward enough with Julia taking pictures ‘for posterity’. There was a collective cheer when his shoulder started to slide free of its prison. Throwing an arm around Quentin’s waist, Penny hoisted him to his feet while he regained the feeling in his toes.

“So, uh, whose are these?” Alice held out two candy bars.

While everyone was crowded around Quentin, she’d been working on solving their original problem. Kady glowered at her as she held out her hand for the candy.

“Thanks, I guess,” she muttered reluctantly. Alice gave her a small smile as if the two had reached an understanding.

Before Quentin could retrieve his shirt, they heard the chirp of a walkie-talkie at the end of the hallway. Campus security. The group exchanged panicked looks.

“Maybe they don’t know we’re here?” Julia offered.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to check out the vending machine now.” The man’s voice echoed down the hall as he spoke into the walkie-talkie.

“Who squealed?” Penny looked around. “I haven’t even seen anyone else.”

Kady glared at Alice, but before she could say anything Todd looked up from his phone with a frown.

“Oh, uh, sorry everyone. I miiight have been live-tweeting. It was such a good story!”

“Rule one, Todd,” Penny groaned. “Don’t tweet your crimes.”

“Oh.”

Reaching for the door immediately next to the vending machine, Kady jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. They could try to scatter, but the hall was too deserted. Besides, Quentin was still leaning on Penny while the blood returned to his feet. He and Penny would be sitting ducks.

Wracking his brain for ideas, he suddenly remembered something. The club flier he’d seen at the coffee shop. Magic Club met in this hallway in the afternoon. Their door would have to be unlocked.

“This way,” he hobbled down the hallway, the sudden activity bringing more feeling back to his legs.

The room was dark when the group approached. For a moment, Quentin worried his plan wouldn’t work. Julia turned the doorknob and the door swung open. Turning the light on, they quickly filed into the empty room. Now at least everyone would have an alibi for being there.

No longer exposed to the cold fall air, Quentin stretched his legs. Sitting on cement was uncomfortable, but it was starting to hit him just how much his body was hurting. Tenderly prodding his bruised shoulder, he felt the sticky dried lube on his skin. He couldn’t wait to take a hot shower.

“I think I got lube on my—”

He didn’t notice the door swinging open again. It wasn’t until halfway through his sentence that he noticed the collective change in posture.

He looked over his shoulder, wondering what everyone was staring at. When he saw them in the doorway, he thought he was going to be sick. Margo and Eliot.

“What the fuck…” Margo faced Penny, ignoring everyone else. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re shooting some porn,” Penny grinned. “Wanna—”

“We’re not shooting porn,” Julia corrected Penny with a glare.

Before anyone could explain the situation, Fen walked into the room.

“Hey did y’all see the—”

She stopped and took in the scene in front of her, eyes wide as she stared at Quentin’s shirtless chest. If appearing shirtless in front of Eliot was embarrassing, standing before Fen was nearly fatal. 

“Well, that explains the shirt crammed in the vending machine,” Fen smiled. “You know campus security is looking for you?”

“Turns out they don’t accept shirts as currency,” he said with a nervous laugh.

His fingers trembled at his sides. The adrenaline from being stuck in the vending machine was starting to dwindle, but talking to Fen was somehow even more nerve-wracking. Looking around the room, his eyes landed back on Eliot. Wrong choice. Despite being surrounded by people, his eyes were focused on Quentin’s body.

Eliot quickly checked his phone, face growing red. Quentin wrongly assumed that he was embarrassed to see him after their moment together at the apartment. He felt a nudge at his side, interrupting his thoughts. Penny was holding out his jacket for Quentin to wear.

“Give it back when you do the laundry,” Penny sighed, now wearing one less layer. 

It took a minute for Quentin to get his sore arm through the stiff leather sleeve. Shuddering, he pulled the shearling collar closer to his neck. It was warm and smelled like Penny. There was something comforting about wearing his roommate’s clothes. 

“Thanks, Penny,” he muttered with a smile. 

Eliot frowned at his phone. 

“Are all of y’all here for the Magic Club meeting?” Fen asked excitedly.

A sliver of an accent shone through her words. Quentin wondered where she was from. When they met he’d been so focused on Eliot that he hadn’t noticed the soft lilt in her voice. He realized he knew very little about her outside of her relationship with Eliot.

“For the last time, Fen,” Margo sighed, “it’s not—”

“_This_ is Magic Club?”

Quentin stared at Margo, who looked like she’d just gotten her hand stuck in a mousetrap. Her odd behavior when he’d been checking out the coffee shop announcement board was starting to make sense. She didn’t want him in her club. What had he ever done to her? 

“It’s not really—” Margo scrambled to explain the truth about the club.

“It’s not a real club, Quentin,” Eliot cut in, catching the pain in Quentin’s face.

Kady threw her arm around Quentin’s shoulder, staring down Eliot and Margo.

“You broke his little nerd heart,” she chided, squishing Quentin’s cheeks together with her free hand. “Look at that face! Shame on both of you.”

Everyone looked at Quentin, who looked like a depressed chipmunk with Kady smushing his face. He knew Kady was trying to be a pest, but he was happy to hear her defending him. Some of his gratefulness dissolved when he made eye contact with Penny, who was trying his best to hold in his laughter.

“Aw, Quentin!” Fen rushed forward, turning to face Margo. “You should let him join, Margo. That faaace!”

She gestured to his squashed cheeks while Kady squeezed them to an imaginary rhythm. He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t help but smile. Part of him was enjoying Eliot’s dismay as his girlfriend begged to keep Quentin like he was a stray dog. 

“And if you don’t,” Julia spoke up, eyes fixed on Margo, “Todd has a great story for the campus paper about people who exploit clubs for personal gain.”

“I do?” Todd asked, then was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Penny. “I mean, yeah! I do!”

“Why would I be running a fake club?” Margo scoffed. 

“Please,” Alice rolled her eyes, “it’s perfect. Low attendance lets you corroborate each others’ lies. You can make up whatever you want on a resume— Being a founding member of a club looks great. Not to mention access to an unsupervised classroom if you can find a professor who needs to look more involved on campus; someone who’s worried about getting their contract renewed.”

Everyone stared at Alice. It was clear she’d given the premise some consideration before this afternoon.

Margo blinked and turned her attention back to Julia.

“So what? You’re gonna blackmail me so your friend can join a club?”

“Whoever wants to,” Julia nodded, looking around the room. “We could all use some buffers on our resumes.”

“I _like_ you,” Margo grinned, impressed. She glanced over Julia’s body before turning to her friend. “Eliot?”

Eliot looked from Quentin to Margo with a frown.

“More members _would_ increase our credibility, Bambi.”

Margo raised her eyebrows as she considered her options.

“Club dues are $20 each. Due before you leave today,” Margo sat down in a nearby chair and began fishing through her bag for a notebook. 

“Wait, what?” Kady interjected. “I don’t have any cash on me! That fucking vending machine—”

With a dramatic sigh, Margo interrupted the beginning of Kady’s rant.

“Fine. If you don’t have the money, just give me something to hold as collateral until you pay me.”

The group weighed their options. An opportunity like this might be worth the extra $20 if they were able to benefit from it later.

“Let’s go! Quentin, you’re first since this is your fault. I’ll need a name, phone number I can reach you at, home address, the name of your favorite pet, your elementary school, and your mother’s maiden name.”

“Aren’t those, like… security questions?” He looked up from the paper as he wrote his name.

“Okay, you caught me. Just give me the three-digit code on the back of whichever debit card you use the most.”

* * *

Quentin could have waited for everyone else to finish up in the classroom, but he was overwhelmed by all the people. Fen kept being friendly. Penny and Julia were exchanging anecdotes about him. And Eliot… Well, he didn’t know what to do about Eliot. He pulled Penny’s jacket closer to his body as the wind picked up.

He looked up when the door creaked open. To his surprise, it was Eliot. The pair stared at each other, neither knowing what to say but both knowing they needed to say something. Finally, gathering what courage he could muster, Quentin said his most immediate thought.

“I guess this looks pretty bad, huh?” He jammed his hands in the jacket’s pockets with a hesitant smile. “First the apartment and now your phony club.”

“Don’t forget showing up at Brakebills” Eliot started to laugh, then faltered. “Oh, um, should I not—”

“No, you’re right. I never even enrolled at Brakebills.”

Things were still uncomfortable, but the catharsis of crying on Eliot’s shoulder in his apartment’s hallway helped the bulk of the issue. As the pair smiled at each other, Quentin understood Eliot’s attempts at making jokes in his living room. Laughing eased some of the pain. Warmth flooded Quentin’s chest as he looked up at Eliot.

“Can we start over?” Eliot asked after a moment of quiet. “I’m not…good. At facing my problems. Moving halfway across the country was easier. So I don’t—”

“I get it.”

They had that in common. Spending the summer living in a hotel was easier than facing the aftermath of his last semester. He could be angry with Eliot for hurting him, but he couldn’t fault him for not knowing how to face a problem he didn’t know he was creating. Besides, they would have to learn to be around each other if they were going to be stuck in the same fake club.

“So, um,” Eliot grinned, eyes shining with joy, “Hi. I’m Eliot.”

Eliot held out his hand for Quentin to shake. 

“Quentin Coldwater.”

He pressed his palm into Eliot’s and gave his hand a small squeeze. The look on Eliot’s face made Quentin’s stomach tighten. They were gripping each other’s hand for a bit longer than necessary. Both of them recoiled from each other when the classroom door opened again. Penny emerged from the room, giving them both an odd look before speaking. 

“So do you need a ride back home or…?”

“Oh, uh. Julia was gonna take me to get my shoulder checked out, but thanks…for the offer.”

Penny smirked at Eliot, then looked back at Quentin.

“Try not to get anything on my jacket, huh?”

Before he could respond, Penny turned on his heel and started down the empty hallway. Quentin watched his roommate’s silhouette grow smaller the further he walked. Sometimes he wondered why Penny said the things he did.

“So that was your…?”

Eliot’s voice brought him back to the moment. He gave a short cough and realized he’d been staring at Penny for a second too long.

“Roommate,” Quentin finished, tugging the sleeves of Penny’s jacket over his hands. It was large on him, adding to the overall coziness. He was already reluctant to return it.

“Roommate. Right.” Eliot made a face. 

Was he jealous of Penny? Julia appeared before Quentin could say anything else.

“Read to go, Q?” She gave Eliot a friendly smile, eyes bright and curious. Just what he needed, Penny _and_ Julia on his case.

“Uh, yeah I guess.” He turned to Eliot. “It was nice talking to you again. I’m glad we got that issue… sorted out.”

Eliot nodded before returning to the classroom where the remaining members of Magic Club were finishing signing up. As Quentin walked with Julia to her car, his heart raced. It had been an eventful afternoon, leaving him with a bruised shoulder and a lot to process. At least now Magic Club would give him something to do. He wondered what being a member of a fake club entailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, turns out taking care of a kitten makes writing fic chapters take a bit longer. Anyways, Penny and Quentin share one brain cell and I love them.
> 
> 2020 update: I got too invested in the Penny/Quentin dynamic but promised people Queliot so I'm just abandoning this instead of disappointing everyone. Send me fun penntin asks @ cumkills on tumblr


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